


'O peaceful Kingdom Come, where art thou?

by hviledol



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kinda, Mentioned blood and violence, No Beta, Oops, Spoiler for Chapter 13, Survivor Guilt, it's been sitting in my drafts since October of last year, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hviledol/pseuds/hviledol
Summary: Five years have passed, and much has changed.(Post-time skip - Azure Moon Chapter 13 but with More Detail)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	'O peaceful Kingdom Come, where art thou?

**Author's Note:**

> Byleth-centric - directly after post-time skip at the cathedral
> 
> This is my first fic, so I'd appreciate any feedback! 
> 
> Sorry for being several months late with this lol

Broken pillars, burnt remains, decimated villages. You look up and see the once magnificent cathedral in ruins, the backbone of the monastery gone to the destruction of war. The beacon of hope for many fallen. Overgrowth has already begun to take over the holy building, and it feels much older than it really is. The amber light from sunrise begins to peek out from over the wall, and reflects off the shattered windows. You feel your chest clench at the sight around you, for the soul of this ancient place has disappeared. 

_Much has happened in the past half-decade_ , you think, walking up the stairs. The click of your heels against the marble floor resound around the room eerily, the noise of choir singers and hushed reverent voices vanished. It is empty, and unsettling. A gust of wind from the nearby window hits your arm, and it is only then you realize that the back of your neck has goosebumps, and you have unconsciously stiffened. The pounding of your heart and your heavy breath fog your hearing some. You begin to sweat at the brow, unwilling to look at the bloodied manuscripts on the floor around you or the horror-stricken faces of those who were unable to escape. The stench of death burns your nose, and a metallic aftertaste lays on your tongue. 

The lilies held in vases near the pews have wilted, dried leaves scattered. You pick one of the wilted flowers up, and examine it. Their white petals are dyed with scarlet. _Resemblance to the rest of this place_ , you muse, dropping the plant to the ground with the rest of its kin. 

Something moves out of the corner of your eye, and you move your focus to it. You can’t see very far, but it looks like the silhouette of… a person? You aren’t quite sure, your eyesight somehow worse than before your 5-year rest. You rub your eyes with the back of your fist and squint, but details from afar are difficult to make out. Carefully tiptoeing over the marred corpses on the floor to get closer, you begin to see more details. Long, blonde hair, a blue cape, white fur. All stained with crimson. There’s a rough and gravelly voice muttering nonsense in front of a mound of rubble. Sunlight pours through the front window, and you recognize who it is.

“D-Dimitri?” Your voice is low, a whisper that would be unheard if not for the deafening silence.

He raises his head and looks directly at you, eyes distant and glassy. His once cerulean eyes that reminded you of the salty waters of the Great Sea have greyed similar to the gloomy cumulus clouds outside, and hold an emotion you can’t recognize. One of his eyes is obscured by an eyepatch, while the other is hidden behind a deep and dark circle. His face is sunken in, like he hasn’t eaten in days, and a bud of concern grows within you. 

Recognition flitters in his eyes, and you reach out a hand to him. He only turns away and scoffs, deprecating than menacing. His brows furrow, and his gaze drops to the floor.

“I should have known… that one day, you would be haunting me as well.” He picks up his hand and clenches it into a fist, hard enough where his fingernails cut the skin and small rivulets of blood drop from his hand onto the already stained tiles. “You…” he starts off, voice weak and strained, “What must I do to be rid of you?” He shuts his eyes, and sighs. “I will kill that woman, I swear it. Do not look upon me with scorn in your eyes. The last thing I wish for is pity from a ghost. I have enough of that as it is.”

The back of your eyes prick, and tears well up in the corners of your eyes. Your vision blurs, and your heart has dropped to the floor, but you walk towards him and gently hold his cheek in your hand. Caressing the smooth skin with your thumb, you smear some dried blood. You intake a shaky breath. His eyes open wide in shock, and he turns his head to face you. “Dimitri,” You say, cracking on the edges. “It’s _me_. What are you talking about?”

“Y-You… It can’t be. You’re alive?” He questions in disbelief. Vulnerable, he reaches out to you. A myriad of emotions pass through his eye - confusion, denial, happiness, betrayal, before settling on anger. He pulls back quickly and holds his hand against his chest, expression now cold with fury. He jumps back, away from you. “If you are alive, that can only mean you are another imperial spy!” He spits out, teeth clenched. “Did you come here to kill me, professor? Is that it?” His hair falls over his eyes, and in the dim light he looks less a person and more the beast that Felix foretold. You step forward, and he points his lance towards you, the tip against your stomach in warning. “Answer the question!” He snaps ragefully.

“Dimitri, what are you saying? Calm down,” You say, stepping back. He seemed unstable, and you didn’t want to escalate this. “Of course not. I’m not here to fight you, much less _kill_ you.” You raise your hands and look him straight in the eyes, hoping he can see your true intentions. He scans your face warily, and you feel the sharp tip of the spear drop from your stomach. You can feel his gaze linger, and he sneers. You unclench your torso, releasing an exhale. He strides right past you, bumping into your shoulder. Turning around, you grab the edge of his cape, stopping him in his tracks. It’s rough and frayed, unlike the pristine lord’s shawl you used to see him wear. The texture is unfamiliar. A lump forms in your throat.

“I’m glad you’re safe and alive, Dimitri.”

He moves his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. “Am I though, professor?” He states, grasping his cape back from your hands and walking away. His cape drags behind him, his rusted lance clenched in one hand, and posture hunched. He has the demeanor of a vengeful man who has lost hope. He is nothing like the boy from the past.

As he moves further from you, the time lost between you and the world suddenly hits. Looking down at your hands, you see them tremble as tears fall down upon them. _You weren’t there for him._

You left him alone to despair over the deaths of _thousands_ within his kingdom. The deaths of his teammates, his family, his subordinates. Everyone, _gone_.

You weren’t there for him when he needed you most. The pain of the realization only expands the hole in your chest. The once kind-hearted man has now become a heartless and ferocious lion.

Five years have passed, and much has changed. 

The Kingdom of Faerghus has fallen, and the bond between you and Dimitri with it.


End file.
